The Sounds of Silence
by IanDonyer -ChrisAvrich
Summary: Daily torture plagues her; the ice in her throat refuses to melt. She can not. Why not? She doesn't know, but she knows that if she does not take care of it soon, she will lose her mind. - Previously up, but revamped to be better. SpecialShipping.


**The Sounds of Silence**

_Sorta-kinda revamped_

Author's Note: This story was up originally, as I've said in the description. But I didn't like it. It received some positive feedback, sure, but to me it was nothing more than romantic nonsense, a story based around an overly angsty girl doing something which ended up making no sense.

This is a different version of that story. I have added details. I have subtracted some. The plot makes more sense this time, and character interaction is much more believable. Overall, it follows the same idea behind the original, but it is still different.

Some offensive language, particularly a certain G-D (for some of ye Christians out there).

This is sort of OOC character-ish. I extremely doubt Yellow would _really _be so angsty, but I felt the need to paint her in that particular picture in this story. Don't like it? SUCK MY-

***shot***

_OKAY, FINE, JUST DON'T READ._

**Disclaimer: Pokemon, Pokemon Adventures/Special Manga, and any other thing that I may have forgotten to mention here that are in the story belong to their rightful owners, also known as... well, not me.**

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It is driving me insane; quicker than a Zubat out in sunny Hoenn, shrieking agonizingly in the sun's burning rays, groping and flying around blindly for some sort of dark blanket to take the pain – all of the pain. But pain is impossible to rid oneself of, no matter how happy, peppy or nice you are on the outside... it can be genuine happiness, or it can be a facade... but no matter which way you look at it, it is only a cloak to cover up the pain that lie deep inside all.

The levels vary.

For instance, a child's pain could be a simple one, almost nonsensical to some people... their parent seems to be taunting them, holding a toy just out of their reach with their words of, "we can't afford it, dear", or, "maybe when Momma gets her paycheck..." The child's mind holds no concept of money – it is a minor pain, but something that leaves a tiny scar across the subconscious, letting them forget it at later dates but never really forgetting somewhere deep in their mind that their parent didn't let them have a toy they wanted.

But the same theory could apply to that same child, but in a different situation; a child whose father is a drunkard, smelling of sweat and beer as they lumber over to them and strike with a rough, calloused open palm, making their small body a scapegoat to the pent up aggression released through alcohol into their hands, but still not gone... no, that is the child's job, to be a scratching post for the overgrown beast who they called lovingly, "papa". This is a stronger pain, that leaves a larger and whiter scar.

Now, there were more grown-up pains. Some things effect teens or adults that don't effect little children. Such is... well, sort of, my case.

It effected me as a child to, because I met him as a child, looking up to him through frightened eyes.

I observed that goofy smile on his face, and it combined with the heroism of his acts instantly drew me in like a water Pokemon on the rod I occasionally enjoyed using. I drew him, too – by this, I mean I occasionally doodled my wishes into my sketchbook, nothing too overtly expressive... just his arm around my scraggly shoulder, my line-eyes somehow managing to display a slight content, his own curly lips drawn into a smile, zigzag cap perched upon his head. I always rip out the picture afterward, tossing it into the nearest source of water and try to resist sighing as I watch it dissolve under the aquatic blue destroyer.

I over think sometimes, I think.

My pain is the silence. A taunting romance is a pain that runs parallel, dancing alongside the silence and complimenting it, giving a nice firm pat on the back for its work in the torture.

_Damn it! Why is it so quiet! _

I love him. I love him with every fiber of my being, I love how he looks, I love how he smells of dirt for his unruly hygiene habits that comes with the wilderness-filled exploration life he loves to lead, walking across the world to go and fight someone – that is another thing I love about him, his courageous and explorative personality that still somehow managed to retain a childlike goofiness, overlaying whatever pain he actually had. I doubted it, sometimes, looking at him... did he feel pain? Or was he just that fucking perfect?

I love his laugh. I love his smile.

I love the way he speaks to me, although it is done by all 'dex holders... he is better at it than all of them, and I don't think he even tries. He makes me feel like a real person, a soul who is like the other 'dex holders instead of the lowest on the rung, just a nurse to the real heads. He makes me feel like I am **special** in my own way, a talent unique as the others.

_Tell him, Yellow! Tell him! … No, I can't …_

I want to speak. God damn it, I _want _to speak, I want to open my mouth and crane back my neck, let loose a howl of declaration into the night sky with him in front of me. I dream of it almost every night now... it drives me insane. In my dreams, there is no ice in my throat, no metallic gray shackles constricting my vocal cords. I speak to him and he speaks to me, and then we hold each other tight in an embrace under the starry night sky...

But I can't. I don't know why, but I just can't – and it is painful, the scar growing whiter every day, more and more invisible across my ever paling skin, my eyes growing more depressed by the moment... the shackles constrict my legs and vocal cords tighter by the moment, and sometimes it feels as if my heart is so heavy with sorrow that I will not be able to walk.

I pull it off. Sure. Whenever someone comes up to me, I smile and wave, talking in cheerful and excited tones, jumping and hopping, but it is only a facade and not a single fucking soul has realized it and I _hate that and I __**hate them and I hate **__**me**_-

_No... more..._

I feel my fists tighten, as I stand in the middle of the trees, bug Pokemon buzzing around me, Pidgey singing. I envy them for their freedom of expression, a simple gift that all things are born with but some of us lose and it makes us cry tears of frustration; as I do now, wet warmth cutting across the pale skin of my cheeks.

I notice a person.

She is a young lady, maybe just a couple years older than me, approaching me with a concerned look in her eyes. She has noticed my crying and has come over to see just what the cause is, but I think I'm going to ignore her.

_Sorry, lady. I have some business to take care of._

I lift a hand up to slide its back against my eyes, drying the tears for just a moment. Good enough. That hand lowers itself to my belt and pulls out the tiny, familiar looking sphere. The girl is close by now, but I open my mouth to let loose a warning, to let her know so I don't bonk her in the head with the ball which I find myself tossing forward without giving this, because my god damn vocal cords are still shut tight. But my muscles aren't, the chemicals still doing their jobs to get contractions working perfectly.

Dodosuke pops out of the ball, and the woman recoils with a shriek. I look up to her for a moment and try to flash apologetic emotion in my gaze, but I don't think it's working... so I merely nod and wave, before focusing my waving hand on the neck of the three-headed ostrich Pokemon, hoisting myself on to his fluffy brown-furred back.

I need not say anything.

I have a talent for emotion... with my Pokemon anyway. They know me, and I know them... in a sense, we are one. We understand each other, and Dodosuke seemed to know what I wanted of him just from my touch... firmer than usual, my palms wet from sweat and hot from blood flow; the woman recoiled yet again, shrieking out in surprise as Dodosuke burst forth.

We cut through the city streets together. I mentally scream apologies to people who we knock off course, but I think Dodosuke isn't really injuring anyone. I don't care, either way... because in all honestly, I am feeling the adrenaline pump through my blood stream, my body bouncing with my Pokemon's as his feet pound across the paved city streets, leaping over the occasional obstruction. I felt on top of the god damn world, because I knew that there was no turning back now.

It is night. The skies are dotted with bright stars, illuminating the dirty path of Route One, which we just leaped into. The trees flashed by in dark hunter green shades, mixed with darker brown trunks that only stood in my peripherals for a moment before a new source of the exact same thing popped in. Pokemon shriek in surprise as we trample across the grass, and I feel a faint apology slip past my lips-

The ice in my throat is melting. Cold water trickles down, allowing the slightest of words to pass through. My lips contort into a grin.

"...red..."

Pallet Town is coming close. I can see the ripe red rooftops that the houses seem to share. One in particular comes to mind, the tallest of them all – Red's refuge in Pallet, a place I've only visited once or twice but carefully observed, subconsciously thinking that maybe a day like this would soon come.

I squeeze Dodosuke's neck lightly for a moment to let him know, just as we burst through the Pallet Town town limits. He complies, and I leap off; I feel a light jolt of pain in my legs, but I feel it best to ignore it, because I'm certain that soon I will be swept off them. Quickly, I return Dodosuke to his Pokeball.

I run.

My breath is getting heavy. But I will not stop. Not until I lay my eyes-

Speaking of the god damn devil.

I come to a stop, and begin to knock on the door of his home frantically, waiting for a response for what seems like forever; it feels like a typical description of one's death, my entire life flashing before my eyes... but it was more like a rebirth.

The sound of a lock unlocking. The door creaked open, and I looked up slightly to see his bad case of bed-head in his black hair, black eyes groggily looking down at me.

"... Yellow?" He mumbled.

I blush, as I realize he is pretty much standing there in his boxers and a thin-looking tank top.

"I realize I kinda came a-at a bad time, Red..." I started off. "... but I need to talk to y-yuh-you."

"... Oh, sure, I guess. C'mon in, then-" I cut him off before he could complete the sentence.

"Actually, I want to talk outside. It's weird, I know, I-I-I... just... please?"

"... Okay, then. Lemme get some jeans and some shoes on, then. C'mon in while you wait." He said, before turning away from me. Nervousness overtook my motions, and I stumbled into the doorway, lightly swatting the door shut behind me.

He disappeared up the steps, and I leaned up against the kitchen counter, wiping away the tears in my eyes that were thankfully invisible in the darkness of the night. The sounds of silence buzzed around me, and suddenly I felt like I was being driven even closer to the edge of the cliff, where the drop would lead to a totally insanity.

… _Red, hurry up, will you? …_

* * *

_It is the middle of the day, but the gargantuan treetops of the Viridian Forest made it seem like it was a shroud of nightfall's essence, a container for the murky black sky for the day before it was released when the sun fled for its much-needed rest._

_Amarillo del Bosque Verde stumbled in this mess of darkness, and her heart pounded hard in her flat chest, yellow-sleeved arms pressed hard against it. She was embracing herself... she was but a child, and she was scared: she could not see well, foreign noises buzzing in her ears, a loudness that she simply wished would leave her alone._

"_...H-hello? Is anyone around?" She moaned quietly, catching the attention of a few Butterfree that floated close by. But they stood their ground, not really wishing to get involved in the affairs of a foreigner... the little girl was somewhat envious of them, as she realized it. They were the smart ones. She had been the dumb one, coming into a place like this alone._

_Some of the older kids had tried to stop her. She hadn't listened: "After all, it's just a forest. What was the worst that could happen, you silly gooses?" She had told them in a childish, singsong voice. Idiot, idiot, _idiot _is what she now sung, chastising herself for her foolishness._

_She hadn't been to this place but maybe once before, when she was even littler; so she had no way of telling that something was wrong, as she trudged through the forest, calling out in her tiny, insignificant voice that she was lost, that she needed help._

_She wandered for a total of half an hour, before her calling caught something's attention._

"_... A-...ah... AHHHH..."_

_The blue beast reared its head, a slight glint of malice in its eyes as its mouth opened, charging a ball of sizzling hot energy. The girl fell backward, letting loose a screech, and then shut her eyes, waiting for the end to come._

"_Saur! Vine Whip, tie down that thing!" _

_A voice._

_Who's voice?_

_Did it matter?_

_No._

_This voice was her savior, the reason that she could get to her feet and scramble forward to get out of the way – but despite this new uplift, she still felt afraid, because her eyes focused upon the blue serpentine creature's attacker; a large green reptile, a sprout of some sort on its back, large teeth barred in a roar, big eyes showing signs of excitement in its work._

"_You okay?" The savior asked, a genuine look of concern in his eyes._

"_...U-uh..."_

"_Oh, you 'fraid'a Saur? It's okay, he's a real nice one, despite his exterior."_

"_...I'm fine. You're lucky. I wish I had a friend like that!" The girl said, slightly admiring her savior's strength._

"_You don't have a Pokemon of your own?" _

"_Nope..."_

"_Okay then," The boy said, pulling something out of his belt and handing it to the girl, before pointing at a Rattata close by that seemed struck with the effects of curiosity, fixated upon the two. The boy then pulled another ball out of his belt and tossed it forward, a cute looking yellow mouse, its cheeks rosy red, long pointy ears tipped in jet black barely visible under the trees. He slipped a hand into his pocket, removing a red metallic box, flipping it open then kneeling at her side, showing it to her. "That thing there is a Pikachu. I call him Pika, though. I want you to order an attack from him, and use it on that Rattata."_

"_... Okay. Uhm... thundershock?" She muttered, and turned to look at Pika, only to see him glowing slightly, illuminating the darkness around them for just a moment, before shooting out a weak jolt of electricity toward the other rodent Pokemon. The Rattata yelped, before turning around and beginning to scurry away._

"_... Throw it!" Red said forcefully, and Amarillo del Bosque Verde listened, tossing the ball at the Rattata right on the mark. The ball opened, and suction pulled the Pokemon inside. The ball hit the ground with a slight thud and began to roll..._

… _one._

_The girl felt her heart beat at what seemed to be almost ten times the normal pace, though that was probably a bit of an exaggeration._

…_two… _

… _three!_

_The ball stopped rolling: The girl walked over to it and picked it up, holding it in her hand. She couldn't help but smile... Ra-chan. That was what she would call this little guy._

_But more importantly, she turned to the boy... her savior, a man who she now felt a massive respect for, was grateful to... and some other emotion that she couldn't quite decipher yet. All she knew about it was that when she looked at this boy, she realized she grew happier._

_And that was enough._

_

* * *

_

Red slowly trudges down the steps, his footfall on the creaky steps catching my attention: I look up to see him dressed a bit more decently, which would make things... a BIT easier. Jeans, some shoes, and his usual jacket covering up his thin top. He also looks a bit more alert... he has woken up some.

"Alright," Red mumbles. The key word was _some_... he had not quite woken up entirely yet. "So, let's head outside, I guess..." He let loose a small yawn, before motioning to the door. I nodded, and walked toward it, reaching up and slipping my hand around the knob, twisting it open and heading outside into the darkness of the night. Red follows after me, and the we simply walked forward.

We were silent for almost fifteen minutes of walking, before we finally reached the edge of Pallet Town, a dismal blue sea visible in front of them, reflecting the stars that shone in the sky, Pokemon buzzing around us.

Finally, Red spoke.

"Ah, don't mean 'ta be kinda rude, Yellow, but what's so important we needed to do-"

"... Have you ever had trouble speaking your mind, Red?" I cut him off. My voice is serious, a more darkhearted side to me than has ever shone before.

Red realizes this, and grew a more serious demeanor himself.

"Nope, not really... if somethin' is on my mind, I always, at the least, have Poli or Pika or Saur, et cetera, to talk to about it. Why'da'ya ask?"

"... I do sometimes. It's like... I want to say something, but when I try, I only do something else – like yawn, to give myself an excuse for opening my mouth."

"Really? Huh... well, why? Do ya worry 'bout people thinkin' your sayin' something stupid?" Red inquired, looking at me with a totally enigmatic expression: I tried for almost a minute to do so, but for the life of me I couldn't decipher it.

" … I worry about one person thinking it's stupid, I guess. I sort of... like him, but way above a friend's level. You get me?" I mumbled, hoping he would catch the clue.

"Oh," He spoke, and I could tell some sort of fluctuation in his tone of voice. Once again enigmatic, undecipherable. "Well, this guy wouldn't think you're at all stupid, if they know you well, I s'pose..."

"Really...? Well, I..."

Suddenly, I yawned, but in this short moment of nervousness overtaking me, causing me to cut myself off, I realized the enigmas of his expressions. He was looking like he was, because he could relate. He wanted to say something to, but he was afraid of making himself look stupid... he had reacted to the revelation that there was a boy I liked, because he could RELATE.

"... I-... I guess I'll just go ahead and say it then," I start. My voice is low, a bit on the side of vibrato despite my attempts to steady it. I feel as if I'm going to start stuttering, but if he can understand it, I suppose it'll work out fine. "... Red, I like you. I like you a lot. I think... I'd go as far as to say I love you."

I do not stutter. Good.

Red stares at me for a moment. His gaze is awestruck, because he realizes that he could have done the same thing earlier – I don't need proof to know that he related to my situation, because he was afraid of telling me the same thing in fear of looking stupid. It just comes to me... I suppose it's the emotional talent.

I find him slipping an arm around my shoulder, and I blush deeply. He draws me in close, and plants a light kiss on my head, and I know at this moment that all the hell I've gone through is worth it; the silence I once hated now enveloped the two of us, and my heart grew heavy... not from sadness, but the sheer weight of the bliss that now rests in it.

" … _The first symptom of love in a young man is shyness; the first symptom in a woman, its boldness." _

_ - Words of Victor Hugo, French Romantic Poet_

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**Note to any regular readers of mine: I'm being evicted from my apartment. A long story made short, it is because my landlady is a lying, conniving little bitch who decided lying to us would be alright for us to keep pets once we flashed prepaid rent into her face, then evict us for keeping them a little while later. Me and my brother are moving over to my dad's for a bit, and I don't know for sure if I'll be able to write there. I'll be sending "The Avian Chronicles" document to my e-mail, so I can work on that if I CAN write over there. I can't guarantee anything, though. At the very latest, expect a new release from me by the end of the year (at the very _latest)._**

Well, I hope this is enjoyed much more. Sorry if you liked the old one better, but I personally feel this is the best choice.

If you like the story, please feel free to check out my other stories. Also, feel free to give some praise to this particular story in a review. ***cough***

Hehe. And if you didn't like it, feel just as free to drop in a review and tell me just what was wrong. As a writer, I love that even more than praise. Please, help me improve some if you feel I need to.

'till next time, whenever that may be!

- Chris


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